


She Hit me but it Felt like a Kiss

by ladyt_24



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anakin is a hottie sub, Anakin is a whiny baby, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Dealing, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous Anakin, Knives, M/M, Organized Crime, Padme could kill you with her shoe, Will add tags as stuff progresses, ahsoka is a badass, character cameos, the person who wrote this does not like yoda and this story reflects that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:53:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyt_24/pseuds/ladyt_24
Summary: Padme Amidala is the second-in-command of one of the galaxy's most powerful crime syndicates, Ultraviolence or UV. She can kill a man with her Louboutin and make him do what she says with just a look. She has alliances, friends and enemies across the galaxy, but she belongs to no one but herself. Or so she thinks.(Hopefully!) Updates once a week.





	1. The Routine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hayden AA](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hayden+AA).



> Hi please enjoy this insane fever-dream of a fic where basically every person you know and love is somehow part of the criminal underworld. This has mostly not been beta'd, only read by supportive friends so please forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes.
> 
> I would love to hear anything literally anyone has to say about this story. Also, find me on tumblr ladyt-ohno or on twitter @aschmloka

Just as she was about to roll the dice for a second time, a man in a gold jacket lightly tapped her shoulder.

“Ms. Waters, you have Coruscant on the line in the communications center,” he whispered into her ear. 

She nodded, and turned back to the table. With a tinkling laugh, she told the dealer she’d unfortunately need to cash out. She looked at the others sitting around the table and rolled her eyes.

“My husband is on the phone,” she pouted. “I suppose now that he’s home on leave that he’ll want me to return as well.”

The table erupted into laughter. Her rich casino friends all knew she hated her husband. Or at least that’s what she’d been careful to reveal to them over the last week. She promised to rejoin them for one last drink when she was finished with her call and wove her way off of the casino floor.

She hadn’t entirely lied to them. Of course her name wasn’t Marionne Waters and she wasn’t the bored and privileged wife of an Admiral in the Imperial Navy, treating herself to a weekend getaway at Canto Bight. But she did intend to rejoin them for a drink after she placed her call.

\-----------------

Safely away from the noise of the casino floor, Padme Amidala tucked the floor-length skirt of her best “wealthy wife” dress to the side and shut the door of the holobooth. She pressed the button that would connect the call.

All Padme could see in the image was a pair of arms, toned and tattooed, their elbows resting on a table, hands clasped in front of a face, and a pair of gleaming amber-colored eyes.

Though she knew what his face looked like, she leaned towards the holo projection, her eyes squinting just the slightest bit, as if there was more to glean from this interaction if she could only see his expression.

“My baby doll, how are you? Are you enjoying your little getaway?” he asked softly. “How has business been?”

She leaned back casually only a split second after. She musn’t let him know she’s nervous. She wasn’t nervous. She examined her nails for a moment and looked up.

She’d been negotiating this week with the casino owners about the cuts from her organization's profits. And thankfully, they’d agreed to exactly what she wanted. 

“We’ve got them right where we want them,” she smiled sweetly. “And no more negotiations for another 2 years if everyone in this deal behaves themselves.” 

“And the shipment of products we brought for them to … sample?” He rubbed his hands together just once.

“Everything’s already gone. You know how these kind of people are. They won’t buy on street corners but that doesn’t mean they won’t buy.”

She still couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he responded.

“My little angel. You never fail me. Now back out there for one more drink and then to the kitchens for your departure. You have a lot to do on this trip yet,” his tone changed from pleased and brisk to lower, slower, almost a growl. “And then it’s time for you to come home to me, isn’t it?”

Something roared up inside Padme. Despite herself the thought of returning to him excited her more than she wanted to think about. She wasn’t supposed to want to go back, but she did. And she would. As she had done many times before.

\-------------------

She returned to the group at the betting table. And she kept her promise, she did have one more drink. But then she pretended to drink four more. By all witness accounts Ms. Waters would have been considered tipsy at the very least, but she shrugged off drunken offers from the other ladies of the table to escort her to the bathroom.

A small, human woman with shining dark curls and wide doe-eyes wandering around with a champagne glass in search of the bathroom would be nothing unusual to the eyes of any observers. She rounded a corner and ditched her glass and her trophy-wife demeanor.

She rounded another corner and met up with a large Twi’lek man who’s orange skin clashed with his golden waiter’s vest. He was exactly what he looked like. One of the casino owner’s own enforcers and at this moment, her escort out. 

“Everything ready, Knox?” she asked him as she tied her hair into a bun and tore off the wrap-around skirt of her elegant dress, revealing a pair of slim leggings that she then rolled down to her ankles.

“All good, Padme. The ships waiting at the end of the passageway. Now..” he turned to her and drew himself up to his full height. “Me and the boys would like our cut of the profits.”

Padme wanted to roll her eyes. How many times had this exact same scenario occurred? How many times did she kick Knox’s ass, tell him he’d get his money from his boss and walk through the secret smuggling passage to her waiting ship? Everytime. That was how many.

The least she could do for him was mix it up a bit. She pretended to look nervous, biting her lip. She then opened her purse, rummaged around and pretending to look for money. She was feeling generous. She took out a 10 credit piece and put it into his hand warmly. 

He looked immediately miffed, but Padme sighed and grabbed his lekku. Before he could even acknowledge what was happening she’d slammed him into the wall and had him on his back. She dug the heel of her shoe into his chest.

“The only thing I’m getting tired of is how stupid you are, Knox. Next time, if we’re going to keep doing this, could you at least surprise me?”

\-----------------

Back to business, Padme thought to herself as she climbed into the already-running ship. She could have a few hours of rest and relaxation before they reached the hand-off coordinates. 

This part was almost her favorite. In the plainness of the cargo ship she could just be herself for a moment, without having to blend so perfectly into her surroundings.

She left the pilot to himself and retreated to the back of the relatively small cargo-ship. She turned on a *whatever the star wars name for movies is* and washed off her makeup before settling back in a not-terribly-comfortable chair with a wet rag over her eyes and waited until it was time for her to do her job again.

The ship was unremarkable. It had to be. It was recorded as a luxury supply ship leaving Canto Bight. And it had to be expendable for what came next. When they arrived at the rendezvous coordinates, she’d have to quickly stun the pilot, who had no idea what was on board. 

Once he was knocked out, she was free to move the cargo to her own ship. A much more conspicuous ship, because that was what this business required. It required her to use people’s perceptions of her to hide in plain sight. Just like she was Ms. Waters in the casino, she’d need to be someone else in the spaceport.

Only once the spice, yes, the cargo was indeed spice, was safely in her boss’s possession could she be Padme Amidala again.


	2. Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme does an errand, witnesses a murder and meets a hottie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a more complete experience, please turn on "I Do" by Cardi B feat. SZA and meditate on what it means to be a bad bitch before continuing to read.
> 
> Yes, there's Gucci in this galaxy.
> 
> *See if you can spot the cameoooooo*

The transition of the goods had gone smoothly. The hardest part was pushing all those big crates out herself, but it was better exercise than anything those fancy Canto Bight trophy wives did. She smirked, wiping a little sweat from her brow as she settled the last crate into place. She knew she looked better than they did, too.

Once the crates were safely hidden, Padme radioed the cockpit to let her entourage, the men who piloted her ship and protected her and it’s cargo, know she was ready to go and walked into the passenger’s area of the ship. It was a little too flashy for her tastes, it was meant to be a little too flashy for everyone’s tastes.

Where a normal ship would have had a hard, metal floor, the passenger’s quarters of the luxury yacht had deep, soft carpets. The fixtures were polished gold and there were rare animal skins draped over the back of the low-slung sofas.

She had 20 hours before she needed to be back in character. She ran a bath in what was an unusually fancy refresher and sank down in it, letting her dark curls float around her as stared at the ceiling.

Padme’s life was comfortable. She was a powerful player in a major crime syndicate. There were few people her boss trusted more. She didn’t mind the questionable nature of the work, she’d chosen this. But something about these last few missions had gnawed at her. It wasn’t just how long she’d been gone, or getting bored with routine.

Why did she always have to play somebody’s GIRL? A trophy wife or a flashy mol or a helpless young woman, traumatized by the death of her father, all of her masks depended on a silent, invisible man in the background to allow her to command the power she needed to do her job.

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to be beholden to a man, even a bunch of fake ones.

But wasn’t that what made her so powerful? She could sneak past and take advantage of those who saw her as a weak sidepiece. She knew she was more than that, she had more agency than that.

All of a sudden she felt very aware she was naked in the bath. But what about him? She was so attracted to his power. Attracted to the way he made her feel like he was the only person who could truly match her, put her in her place even.

Padme didn’t want to be beholden to a man, she truly didn’t. But if she was, the least he could do was be thoroughly badass.

She felt the same feeling she’d had in the casino roar up within her. It was time she went home to him.

\----------------------------------

Tai Montador was just arriving at the landing pad as the starwind yacht touched down. It was early. He didn’t know who or what awaited him on the ship, only that the Governor had sent him, a bodyguard, down to receive a guest he was expecting.

He assumed it would be the same kind of guest the Governor’s personal landing pad usually received, off duty imperial officers there to do business of some sort. Business was good when your war created a demand for your own supplies.

These meetings happened all the time, it was just a bunch of old guys contracting with one another’s businesses and making one another even richer. But the shoes on the ramp of the shuttle where Tai respectfully kept his gaze weren’t the black military boots of an officer. They were heeled and delicate and .. Gucci?

These shoes belonged to a woman. A tiny, curvaceous woman with enormous hair and big, shining brown eyes. Her gown and kimono looked like something an evil queen might wear to bed. They were made of floaty material, loose fitting but finely woven and all black, with a fine floral pattern embroidered in a fiery red-orange on the wide sleeves.

This was the part where Tai would usually reach out his hand to a lady, to assist her the rest of the way down the ramp but something told her this woman would not welcome this action. He did it anyway, rather than later face the ire of his boss, but still kept his eyes down.

To his surprise she politely grasped his hand, but still said nothing. When they reached the bottom of the ramp, she put on a pair of darkened glasses.

“It’s rather bright on this world, isn’t it?” she said to him. “You’re awfully close to your sun here.”

Tai had to steady himself.

“I think I’ll take the lead from here. I know the way.”

She looked at him with the dark glasses hiding her eyes. He fell behind her and didn’t push the issue.

Even though he’d been sent down to take her to the palace, two large men in dark suits followed her. Maybe she hadn’t known he would be there.

Tai walked behind the three of them and spent the rest of the trip to the Governor’s palace looking between the guard’s shoulders at her hair, contemplating what could possibly make it stay up like that.

\-------------------------------

The ship docked into the spaceport 20 minutes early. To her credit, Padme was dressed and ready by then regardless.

She felt bad for the poor guard sent down to meet her. He didn’t look like anyone had told him to expect her. But not bad enough to be nice to him. This was a detour. Get her own documents signed, act as messenger for some others, move on.

Her meeting with the governor was routine by now as well. He signed special documents that gave her ship the clearance it needed to land at most ports without a customs inspection, documents that most people assumed meant she was the Governor’s lover and this was the ship they traveled on together to avoid attracting the attention of someone who might tell his wife.

Of course her true relationship with the governor was professional. But in her business, part of being professional was pretending she was sleeping with everyone.

His allowance of her passage through his world covered up a lot of underground trade and in turn, his favors to Ultraviolence granted him status in the amalgamous web of alliances of the crime families.

He was younger, for an imperial governor and with golden-red hair and a sharp jaw. He was what Padme would have called dashing if she was into guys like him. His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the datapad. The documents wouldn’t expire for 6 months and granted not just her ship but about 20 others from her boss’s fleet access to his planet’s spaceport. The trip had been worth it.

“I have a message for you,” she said as she tucked the pad into her bag and pulled out a data card.

He gave her one of those sideways, good boy looks. She sighed internally. He was a cutie, and he was in way over his head.

“Can you meet with Crimson Dawn leadership? They’re interested in setting up a few laundering businesses in the system. Nothing enormous. Just to clean up what they’re making off of whatever’s left of the refineries they control in this sector.”

She handed him a data card with the proposal’s information on it. Padme could always tell when men were afraid. But the governor put on a good face. He straightened up.

“Do you have codes for the rendezvous point?” the governor asked with what she thought was admirable composure.

\-----------------------------------

Padme walked back to her ship, guards behind her, without her glasses on. It was dusk on the planet, no need for them now. She didn’t really need the guards either, but her boss insisted. Besides, the spaceport was always a little bit sketchy.

All of the big time players took guards around with them. Even though the syndicates had been relatively peaceful, prospering off of war and too busy to fight each other, there was always the chance of getting whacked.

The bodyguards’ presence on her trip helped eradicate every gaze or cat-call that may have come her way. But she knew that she had to let at least a few of the spaceport’s mechanics jeer at her to make the right kind of impression on her way off-world.

She was just a block away from the gate of the private landing pad when suddenly, one of her guards was gone. She heard a strange buzzing noise and then a thud as his body hit the ground.

Padme turned to look at the man and let out a sharp breath. One of his legs was now missing a foot. He wasn’t bleeding, but there was a screaming man with a stump for one leg where her body guard had been a moment ago.

Before she even knew it, the other man was on the ground too. She couldn’t examine what had happened to him or even do something to help before something felt like it was burning on her leg. Instinctively, she drew back and turned her foot to the side, kicking out hard at what her senses instantly told her was the attacker.

Padme hadn’t even been able to ascertain what had caused the burning feeling when she felt a pair of tiny hands grab her leg and begin to crawl up her body.

It happened too quickly. She was blinded all of a sudden by the same rough pair of hands, covering her eyes. She reached to her head to remove them but she began to choke. She felt whatever was attacking her leap off her back, but still she couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.

The same invisible rope that was choking her pulled her down to her knees, bending her back towards the pavement. Sweeping up inside her, along with her fear, Padme felt shame. Usually she could handle ANYTHING. What was happening to her?

“Have it, do you?” whispered a raspy, growl of a voice in her left ear. Something about that voice made her feel violated.

This time when she relied on her senses to tell her where her attacker was, they came through for her. Her hand made contact with a body and in a split second she could breathe and see again.

The first thing she saw was a man about 10 feet to the right of her, his blaster drawn. She moved swiftly to draw her own blaster, which was strapped to her leg and concealed under her flowing dress. She briefly pointed it at him to let him know she wasn’t fucking around, but she knew he hadn’t been her attacker. Despite her rushing adrenaline, she had a strange thought she’d met the man before.

Padme turned to her left, looking for the being she’d just punched, but she didn’t see anyone.

She looked back to the man and locked eyes with him for a split second before he broke her gaze and fired his blaster three times in quick succession. She felt the air the hot bolts pushed out of their way as they flew swiftly under her arm and past her body.

She again moved her weapon on him, about to show him what happened when someone dared to take a shot like that at her and MISS. But there was a sizzle of flesh behind her as his bolts met a body and a thud as it fell to the ground.

Padme turned and saw a disgusting, green body splayed on the pavement. She’d heard three shots but there was only one dark burn on its chest. The man in the street was a much better shot than she’d presumed.

The men meant to be protecting her were dead. Somehow the creature had found the time to make one neat wound directly through each of their hearts. She could feel a burn on her leg where its weapon had just grazed her.

She made it a point to never ask questions of people she didn’t know, but she couldn’t help it now. Still thoroughly shaken by the idea that both her bodyguards and her excellent combat skills were no match for this small, wrinkly creature who had taken away her breath and her sight, she turned again to the man.

“What the hell was that?” she shouted, hoping that if she spoke loudly enough, maybe he wouldn’t bother to come any closer.

She at least appreciated that he hadn’t already run to her and asked if she was okay, as though he had saved her instead of simply gotten to the target first.

So much for hoping. He stepped out of the alley and into the light and Padme could see he was a certified Hottie™. She tried to ignore it. She wasn’t examining his face as he came closer to her, wasn’t checking out the way his broad shoulders strained his leather jacket or the way the breeze ruffled his already messy hair.

“The answer’s not going to do the ordeal you just had any justice,” he said to her, still walking closer. “Nobody really knows what that thing was, but it would attack anybody it thought it could steal spice from and it had a weird little sword that could hurt people pretty bad.” He looked at the men on the ground a little sadly.

He stopped just a step in front of her. He was looking her right in the eyes now. His were steely blue, just faintly red rimmed. There was a thin scar running over one of them. He smelled a little like he’d just run through a field on a farming moon and a little like he’d just come out of a bar. The latter seemed more likely.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for one of us to shoot him…” he trailed off, looking away from her for a moment, in his own thoughts.

He turned back to her abruptly, taking one more step towards her and asking her quietly, smoothly, “So do you?”

Padme breathed him in. She did it again, ignoring the voice in her head reminding her not to smell cute boys she found in the street. Only then did she realized he’d asked a question. She had no idea what he was talking about. Did she what?

He must have noticed the question didn’t make any sense to her. He leaned down closer to her ear. He was tall, he had nearly a foot on her. Breathe, Padme.

“Do you have any spice?”

He knew she did. In that moment she’d figured out why he had seemed familiar to her during the fight. He was a hired gun, a runner, he sometimes picked up work from her boss. He wasn’t asking because he wanted it. He was asking to remind her that they’d met.

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it before. Her eyes hardened as she looked a little over his shoulder. Men hated when you did that while you were talking to them.

“Skywalker ...”


	3. Recruiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme needs a new pilot and bodyguard to be able to continue her journey. Who could it be? Feat. Ashoka Tano as the killer-togruta version of a Kardashian-Jenner.

He looked a little bit hurt that she was pissed at him now. Good. She was powerful, he knew better than to treat someone of her standing that way.

She intended to at least make a few threats, if not physically harm him but her comm beeped and she had to answer it. It was him.

She wanted to be anywhere this Skywalker guy wasn’t before she answered this call. Comm still beeping, she turned on him and imagined she was a Sith lord with lazers for eyeballs. 

“FUCK OFF,” she said firmly, not angrily, but while giving him her most burning look.

Skywalker didn’t have that sad dog look anymore. He held her gaze, just as burningly, for a moment before he turned and headed in the direction she’d come from. 

The image Padme was looking at was almost exactly the same as the one she’d seen in the holobooth on Canto Bight. Arms up in front of him, elbows resting on the table. Clasped hands covering most of his face. Gleaming eyes. 

“Who jumped you?” he snarled. “Has that pretty boy governor double crossed us?”

The fear and shame she’d felt only a few minutes ago during the attack came rushing back to her. How had he known so fast?

“No!” she said quickly. The governor was already afraid of the syndicates. He’d never do anything this foolish and incite their ire. And besides, Skywalker’s explanation seemed correct. 

She turned her comm so he could see the shriveled body. 

“It was this thing, it’s been attacking all kinds of people for money or drugs. Just another weird little junkie,” Padme said. She bent a little closer to continue examining it. 

“What’s that in his hand?” the boss pointed. 

Padme reached down, extremely careful not to touch any part of the creature to gingerly pick up a small, silver cylinder. 

The man in the hologram let out a low growl. She wanted to ask what it was but part of her job was knowing when and when not to ask questions. 

“And I presume you did not survive this encounter on your own?” he said at last, his voice even. 

Padme wondered indignantly what would make him assume that. 

“A runner we’ve hired before came out of a bar and shot him,” she said, still a little irritated that it was so obvious she couldn’t have handled it herself. “Skywalker. The one with the scar. I don’t know why he’s on this world.”

She still wasn’t sure what had come over her, what had made that strange little junkie’s attack so debilitating. She was a warrior, damn it.

“I must say I sincerely dislike the idea of you getting… hurt. You are to return to me immediately,” he said. He leaned forward. She could see his face for the first time in weeks. His eyes looked directly into hers. “And bring that with you.” He indicated the silver cylinder in her hand with a nod. 

Padme wasn’t stupid. This was the lowball offer of a negotiation.

“I want to keep working,” she said in a soft but determined voice. She widened her eyes, giving her best “fuck me” look. She wasn’t proud of that trick but it was effective.

The man exhaled sharply. She knew how to get to him.

“Who’s already out here that we can spare? If I’m not alone, it won’t be nearly as dangerous,” she said. “Just send someone better than whoever these thugs were.” 

Padme glanced at the bodies, still in the street. They’d been dead for about 5 minutes at this point and she’d need to get them out of here soon. She needed to wrap this up.

The boss still hadn’t said anything. There must not have been spare guys. Padme didn’t have any other plans at the moment so she’d really have to sell the new bodyguard idea. Who could get here fast?

“Maybe the governor could send some of his guards,” she said.

“Bring government officers on this mission?” her boss said slowly. His tone became sweet and overly simple like he was speaking to a child. “I don’t think that will work.”

"Crimson Dawn is still operating refineries in the region,” her speech was becoming more crisp, trying to overcorrect his baby talk. “Qi’ra can spare someone. For me.”

Despite their alliance, he didn't trust Qi'ra as far as he could throw her. He didn’t say anything. This was his part of the negotiation. He’d let her have this if she could get crafty enough. He was testing her. 

She heard something behind her and whipped her head around, half worried it was another attacker and half worried it was that handsome smuggler returning in time to hear a woman who could easily put her high heel through his neck getting belittled by her boss. 

A few doors away, a shop owner was locking his door for the night, calmly, as if two men hadn’t died in the street 5 minutes before. She turned back to the holo with her last idea. 

“Can I bring Skywalker?” she said it carefully, measuredly. Like this was the answer she’d had in mind from the beginning and had only mentioned the others for effect. “He’s an excellent shot, he’s worked for us before and he always delivers. He can be trusted and he can be paid cheaply.” 

He had leaned back again, all she could see were his bright eyes. 

“You trust him?” he asked, sounding like he’d finally resigned to the deal. “Find him now and get off this world.” He hung up the call without saying goodbye. 

Padme sighed. This really wasn’t ideal. She hadn’t actually thought about what finding Skywalker again would take. Not to mention what it would take to get him to come with her, or what she’d do alone on a mission with him for the following days.

First she had to get rid of these poor saps she’d had for guards. Thankful for the strength she gained pushing around literal crates of narcotics, she knelt and began to pick up the first man. She’d already decided to leave the green thing where it lay, as a warning.

——————————————————

Padme made her way to a door in the back of an all night deli 10 minutes from the shipyards. It was flanked by a display of risqué holonovels with garish covers and a rack full of bags of crispy chips, foods from all different worlds that had been sliced thin and fried.

She squinted in the yellowish lights of the shop and knocked. A small slot in the door opened. Padme had barely lifted her hair to show the bouncer the small tattoo behind her ear when the door swung open.

Skywalker was mostly a freelance worker, not on contract with any company, legitimate or otherwise. Padme assumed he was here trying to pick up work. She knew where to find him or, if she couldn’t, she knew where to find someone who could. Besides, she should at least check in on business in the system before she left.

She had disposed of the dead men and returned to her ship to change clothes. She didn’t want to show up in the same outfit, still looking frazzled and scared. It was bad enough he’d actually seen her that way at all, she wasn’t about to let it happen twice. 

Now Padme was following one of the bouncers who had been at the door, sticking to the floor a tiny bit with each step in her red stiletto boots. She’d put on a pair of tight black pants and a short leather jacket, with the hope that their similar outfits might subconsciously convince Skywalker he was already on her team.

Well, what do you know. He actually was here. He was standing at the bar, his back to her. Padme continued on with the bouncer, to a large booth in the very center of the room. She slid in and turned to the woman sitting there as though she wasn’t here to see Skywalker at all.

“So that’s him, huh?” said the young togruta woman in purple lipstick and a white blazer with nothing underneath.

In the few months that had passed since she’d last seen her friend, Padme had forgotten how young she looked. Ahsoka was still a teenager, but she was already one of UV’s most powerful distributors. She was tough and skillful, but in many ways still a girl. 

In fact, Violet’s, the club they were in now, was a place the little dealer had commandeered as her own so she’d have a place where she and her young friends could drink without IDs. 

Padme looked around. The last time she’d been inside this place it had been a rough space-biker bar. Now the ceiling glowed with stars and it didn’t smell like beer and sweat. Gogo dancers of several genders and species stood on stage in front of a DJ. Everyone she could see was young, good looking and fashionable. Padme smiled. Ahsoka always knew what was cool. 

As Padme settled back with one eye still on Skywalker, a bartender of an alien race she didn’t recognize, wearing a uniform that was barely there brought them drinks.

“Honestly I don’t even know what species that guy is,” Ahsoka grinned as he walked away. “But with a bod like that, he was HIRED.”

Padme laughed out loud. Usually when they were together, the two women were on conference calls or in meetings with other important figures in the syndicate. They were talking business or disciplining someone who’d stepped out of line or otherwise proving to the mostly male crowd they ran with that they could handle themselves and everyone who dared cross them. It was nice to be able to talk and joke together, just as two friends.

“I can only imagine what this pilot dude would look like in your employee uniform,” Padme muttered. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll mind being alone with him for a few days.”

Ahsoka made a face, again reminding Padme that the girl in front of her, commanding gang operations and wearing that skimpy white outfit was just 18.

“I don’t see it. He’s okay I guess, but he looks kind of dopey. There’s a lot of people I’d rather be trapped on a ship with,” Ahsoka said, her eyes skating over several of her own employees.

Padme had always felt like Ahsoka was sort of an apprentice, or at the very least a rare sister in what was mostly a criminal brotherhood. She didn’t want to shame the girl but getting too close to the people who worked for you could be dangerous. She couldn’t resist saying something.

“Try not to only hire people you want to have sex with,” she said in a tone she hoped sounded like she was a loving big sister. “Letting the people who work for you know your weaknesses can lead to trouble.”

Ahsoka mimed grabbing Skywalker’s butt from across the room. 

“You’re one to talk!” she shouted with laughter in her voice. 

As Padme had planned, Ahsoka’s outburst drew his attention. Skywalker saw Padme sitting there but she pretended to laugh with her friend just a little longer than normal and only looked over when Ahsoka had finally calmed down and turned her attention to the data pad that she kept with her at all times.

She had a practiced oh-I-didn’t-see-you-there look. She put on her doe eyes again, open wide. Her lips slightly parted in an O the first moment before a small, sly, too-cool smile and a long gaze replaced it. It was the bend and snap of dangerous gangster girls.

Padme got up when he began making his way towards the table.

She remembered how angry she’d been at Skywalker, how afraid she’d been after the attack, and how much she really did want to be alone with him. She brought her feelings to the front of her mind and used them to make herself more imposing, more... convincing.

“Sorry again about not letting you finish that little freak off.” He was looking down at her spiky red boots. “He uh, murdered your entourage didn’t he?”

Padme, who had still been looking past him up to this point finally brought her gaze to his eyes. She grabbed his arm, which felt surprisingly hard, and leaned in just a little more. She could smell his farm/bar scent again.

“I’ll need a pilot to finish my mission,” she said in the same tone she used to tell men when to drop their weapons or take off their clothes.

And that was it. He was in.


	4. Two Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka and Padme demonstrate their badass girl gang strength. Padme gets frisky with her new pilot, even if he is a squinty drunk.
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

Padme told Skywalker it was up to him when they left. She was going to go back over here and visit with her friend, she said, and he could come get her when he was ready to leave. It meant that she didn’t have to order him around and that he’d keep glancing over at her every few minutes. He, of course, didn’t really have any say in the matter but it was important that he thought he did.

She and Ahsoka finished another drink. It seemed that despite her disapproval of her friend’s management techniques, Violet’s was popular with all the right people. Soon she was crowded into the booth with a giggling heap of off-shift dancers, models and aspiring performers, all vying for Ahsoka’s attention.

A girl with light pink skin and glowing green eyes was practically sitting on Ahsoka’s lap and telling a hilarious story about something that had happened last year at a photoshoot on Bespin when Ahsoka’s data pad blinked with a new message. She caught Padme’s eye. They were needed. Business.

Jostling the dancers, Padme accidentally and Ahsoka on purpose, they extricated themselves from the booth and Ahsoka led them to her office. The lights were a dull, dusky pink and the furniture was the same style as everything in the main bar, but twice as comfortable and three times as expensive. The effect was strangely intimidating. Anyone who entered knew this was the boss’s space, right down to the fluffy, pastel colored rug.

“Why are you bothering me, Karloff?” Ahsoka sat at the desk. Padme took her place, as the higher ranking boss behind Ahsoka’s chair, standing there to support her apprentice and to help the situation seem more intimidating.

“You know what tonight is,” Ahsoka told the three men with an edge in her voice. “And you know what tomorrow is too.”

The smallest of them, a Rhodian, looked down. Padme knew what was going on already. This man owed Ahsoka money and he didn’t have it. 

Padme wondered if the two larger men were Karloff’s employees or his friends. Would he have brought employees to hear him tell a nightclub owning, teenaged mob boss that he didn’t have any money? They were trandotians. Padme didn’t even know their if culture had friendship.

“I know I seem like I am just a child, but I want you to know you can’t fuck with me, Karloff,” Ahsoka said in a lower voice. “I want you to know you can’t fuck with me because that’s the only thing that will keep me from killing you.”

Karloff still hadn’t actually said anything. Had he bought drugs on credit and never paid the money back? Was it borrowed to finance some other vice or was he a desperate man with people to take care of? 

It was impossible to know and even more it wasn’t her job to care. Padme had intervened about the bar’s staff, but how her friend ran this aspect of her business was her choice. And her choice had already been made.

“Let me escort you boys outside,” Ahsoka said, eerily cheerful given her previous warning. She and Padme followed them out of her office, out of the bar and up the back stairs and finally, into the cool night. The deserted alley where they now stood reminded Padme of the street where she’d been attacked just hours earlier. 

The men feigned starting to turn away from them, to walk down the alley. But in a moment, they turned around, blasters fished out of their jackets and ready for a fight. Padme had already pulled her blaster from it’s holster and looked sideways at Ahsoka, who had produced twin energy blades that had been concealed on her person, although Padme had no time to ponder where exactly that may have been.

Ahsoka leapt forward without waiting for the men to fire first, placing herself directly in front of them and crossing her arms over her body, to bring her blades together. The first trandotian was dead moments later, his throat slashed by the young woman’s twin blades. Padme still hung back. She was on her friend’s side, but this was not yet her fight.

Ashoka was behind the second man, her knife in his back just a blink after his companion’s body hit the ground. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, again, dragging the blades across another throat.

Karloff hadn’t fired at all, he’d been too startled at first and too worried about hitting his second companion as Ahsoka had closed in on him. He dropped his weapon without shooting a single bolt. Padme kept her gun trained on him and Ahsoka was already at his back. 

The blades of her weapons crackled slightly as she held them inches from his neck. 

“What did I tell you before Karloff?” Ahsoka’s voice was so low it was almost a whisper. “If you try to fuck with me, I will kill you.”

She paused to give the man time to comprehend how afraid he really was of her. She wanted him to remember it. 

“The trouble is, you still have something that belongs to me and you’ve made a mess that needs cleaning up.” She brought the blade a little closer to his throat. “So tonight you’ll clean up my alley, and tomorrow you’ll pay me what you owe me, and you won’t do what I told you not to do, and we’ll see if that’s enough to keep you alive another day.”

________________________________

 

Skywalker’s eyes found hers quickly, as soon as Padme returned to the main part of the bar. He had been looking for her. Despite the scuffle, Ahsoka was right behind her still looking flawless in her miraculously blood-free blazer.

Padme could tell Skywalker was drunk now. She wished she was too, she’d planned to be at least tipsy when the two of them were alone again. But instead she’d wasted her time helping Ahsoka teach a debtor a lesson. She signaled the bartender for shots.

Skywalker was trying to engage Ahsoka in conversation. But after the ordeal in the alley, her patience had run out and she was only willing to stand there as long as it took to get a read on her friend’s new pilot. Padme could see the young woman eyeing her pink friend while she flipped through her data pad and responded boredly to Skywalker’s questions. 

“So you’re like… really young, right?” He looked at her with his head tilted and his eyes squinting. “Have I seen you on HoloGramm? Are you really in charge of this whooooole sector? That’s, like, so cool.”

The most fashionable gangster in the galaxy didn’t look up. Padme was on her second gulp of something that looked clear but tasted like it should have been blue.

“If 18 is young, sure. I’m not a model but I’m friends with a lot of them. And Padme is in charge of this whole sector and 8 others besides that but I manage the operations in this system and report to her.” 

Her voice was monotone. Clipped and a little bit sassy. Skywalker squinted some more. So he was a squinty drunk.

“Wait, who’s Padme?”

Ahsoka just pointed at her friend and when Skywalker turned to look, Ahsoka looked up and wiggled her eyebrows in a teasing farewell at Padme, who was in the middle of tipping back the last of her drink, before going to join the jumbled group of impossibly good looking employees. 

He looked at Padme the same way he had right before he’d whispered in her ear about the spice. He looked awfully sure of himself. Padme hated him for doing it and hated herself for kind of liking it. She was in charge here.

“Huh, your friend is awful snippy.” He looked around. “I think it’s time for us to go, gotta make sure I’m keeping you safe.”

He really thought she was unable to take care of herself. Padme’s blood boiled but she decided she’d wait til they were alone to do anything about what he’d just said. Sure, her boss thought he needed to be here for her protection but she’d be damned if she let Skywalker think she thought so, too.

\---------------------------------------------------

Skywalker stood, taking in her gaudy living room. It was time to make her move. She wasn’t going to use her blasters or any special weapons. He needed to know she was deadly without a blaster. He needed to know she was deadly all on her own.

Padme pulled off her jacket and shoes, her tight pants and the loose fitting shirt that had let the lace of her bra peek out, a little hint of red that matched her shoes and lipstick. She was still feeling coordinated enough to pull this off but was thankful for the courage the alcohol had given her. The people she took down weren’t usually this hot. She took a deep breath and stepped into the living room without a sound. 

She grabbed Skywalker’s right arm, the weird feeling one, and bent it back. She kicked his feet sideways, out from under him and as he fell she grabbed his other wrist. He yelled as he hit the floor. He was on his back, on the floor. Pinned with his hands above him by a gangster in her underwear. She pressed her knee to his chest.

“See how easy that was for me?” She reached for his holstered blasters and threw them across the room. “You can see I didn’t have any weapons and I didn’t have any tools,” she whispered softly, breathing into his ear. “And you can admit that I’m too strong for you to throw me off of you so easily.”

Skywalker’s face had changed. The smug smile was gone. His jaw was clenched and he didn’t look afraid exactly but he at least looked apprehensive of his new situation. Padme couldn’t help but think how nice that made his face look. She had to get this message across. Focus. But she was practically naked and on top of him.

“Is this because I didn’t know your name?” 

“You are not here to protect me, you are here to do what I say,” she leaned in a little more, her bare knee weighing on him a little more heavily. “I cannot afford to employ people who do not listen to me. I cannot even afford to know them. So, do we agree on what you’ll be doing on this mission?”

He looked blazingly in her eyes, that sexy jaw of his clenched even tighter. But in a moment he relaxed and looked away, nodding.

She took her knee off his chest, but didn’t fully get up. With her legs on either side of him, she sat back a little, enough to know that this wasn’t just a demonstration of her strength for him either. Padme closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did this all the time. There was just something about this one. It was infuriating how badly she wanted him. She felt her head spin a little. Were the drinks finally catching up to her?

She kept his hands pinned above his head when she leaned down again to kiss him and he let her. His hands stayed there when she roughly yanked off his clothes and for everything that came after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka slashes two throats open, in homage to when canon Ahsoka beheads some Death Watch mofos. 
> 
> There is some drinking and some sexy times after people have been drinking but everyone has their wits about them and is a willing participant.


	5. One Hell of a Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme and Anakin deal with the aftermath of doing it. Short chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been gone so long!!! Someone stole my car in November and I was so stressed from dealing with everything that came with it and then I had finals at school and the holidays. I'm hoping to be back on a weekly schedule as an act of self discipline in the new year. Thank you for reading and for leaving likes and comments. Tell me what you think!!

Padme sat up in bed. The starwind’s day cycle was gearing up but with her sleeping mask still firmly over her eyes she had to rely on the subtle shift of the ship to know they’d just exited hyperspace. She removed the mask slowly, not entirely sure of what or who else she might find in her bedroom.

She was alone.

Admonishing herself for feeling something other than relief at that knowledge, she padded to the refresher and turned on the steam shower, letting it heat up as she checked her data pad for messages and reread her notes on the day’s meetings. She was just going about her business. It was a regular day.

But the minute her pajamas were over her head and in a pile on the floor, Padme’s thoughts were back on the way she’d taken off her new pilot’s clothes, piece by piece the night before, going slow and nipping at him, never allowing him the satisfaction of touching her.

She already knew he was soft. The jacket and tats were nice affectations but even with the tough smuggler exterior and a metal hand, Skywalker was a mama’s boy. She’d have to be careful with him, Padme thought as she absently scrubbed at some dirt on her ankle, hot water cascading over her back.

He’d been adorably submissive. The initial jaw-clench had been his only resistance to her, and he hadn’t said a word when she told him what to do, where to touch her, how fast to go. She shivered in the hot water, remembering how it seemed like all of Skywalker’s bravado had gone when he finally, kissing her neck and clenching his hands around her hips, had begged for her to let him finish. Oh he was just the kind of pilot she needed.

Once she was dressed and ready for the day, she sat once more on her bed to go over the schedule that she was still able to miraculously adhere to, assuming they’d come out of hyperspace at the correct coordinates. Skywalker really was one hell of a pilot. Only two stops today, a drop off and briefing at another UV-controlled system and tea with an ally. 

It had been awhile since she’d been on a mission like this and Padme felt a little excitement well up in her at seeing more old friends, even if it was for gang business. But to get to them, she’d have to go out there and see Skywalker. Why was that so daunting when 8 hours ago she’d been digging her nails into his chest, shoving herself onto his dick until he begged for mercy? Huh.

\-------------------------------------

There was no trick Padme hadn’t seen a man try when it came to making bad decisions and morning breath seem sexy the next day. But she walked into the living room to find her pilot awake and adorable, seemingly without trying at all. His hair was unfixable, half of it stood up and what wasn’t standing flopped into his still slowly blinking eyes.

One of the throws from the couch was pooled around his waist as he sat up halfway, his arm, the fucking robot one, propping him up on the couch. Padme wanted to eat him for breakfast.

“So this is kind of weird, huh?” He met her eyes. “Honestly I thought you’d wait at least a few days before you jumped my bones like that. I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready.”

He had seemed awfully ready at the time.

“Which part were you not ready for exactly? The jumping, or the boning?” Padme hated herself for the pun but she thought he might let her get away with it. When he didn’t react, she wondered if he even knew what a pun was. 

“I’ll be honest,” he sighed and looked away, she’d set it up to make his answer, no matter what it was, embarrassing. “I wasn’t ready for you to jump me, and, since I’m already humiliated, I was absolutely ready for the other part and I could be ready for it again in like 20 seconds.”

Padme rolled her eyes. He covered his face with his hands and leaned his head back on the couch.

“On the condition that you don’t beat me up first. You can do whatever you want and you don’t even have to knock the shit out of me.” This time his voice growled with a little desperation. Like he wasn’t just admitting this to seem like a cocky sex-machine, but like he actually had to tell her how badly he wanted it.

Jesus Christ he was tempting. But she knew she’d already allowed herself to feel too much attraction to Skywalker. If he knew how badly she wanted to be all over his body again, he could use it against her or worse, think she felt something for him other than pure, carnal desire.

“I can’t believe you actually got us to Alderaan so fast,” she said, ignoring his most recent plea for her to, apparently do whatever she wanted to him. “Now comes part two of your gig though, think you can follow me around and look scary while I take care of business today?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said slyly, that cocky little shit attitude was back. He looked right at her. He already looked a little scary, the scar on his face and the heat coming from his eyes. Padme took a deep breath, she had to stay on schedule. He was messing with her, she knew it. “Whatever you say.”


	6. At Home in the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme and her pilot visit the place that made her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience guys! Yesterday was my first day of school so I was super busy and I didn't get a chance to post this. I'm still trying to stick to my schedule of posting a chapter a week but my life is already getting crazier than I anticipated (lol isn't that how it always goes?) Enjoy! Leave your comments! And feel free to find me on twitter at @ahschmloka where I write funny, stupid crazy shit about Star Wars all the time.

The starwind slipped under the clouds of Alderaan’s atmosphere and although she knew Anakin and the wide panel of sensors knew where they were going, Padme panicked for a small moment when she couldn’t see anything through the fine mist. She’d been coming to this same mountain on this same planet for years and yet she felt that same jolt in her stomach each time her ship dropped below the cloudline.

“Now, when we get there, I have a meeting with King and Queen,” she was prepping Anakin for a less than warm welcome. “You’ll have to wait outside the room, if not in the ship, the whole time.”

Anakin took his eyes away from the viewport, which was still nothing but white mist, to look at her in surprise.

“THE king and queen? As in OF THIS PLANET?” Oh, those blue eyes were gorgeous even when they were wide and buggy with shock.

Padme couldn’t help but laugh at that. Where on earth was this so-called smuggler from if he’d never heard of King and Queen? They were part of the group who’d founded Ultraviolence, brought it up in the galaxy until it could stand and hold its own next to the other syndicates and they were the only survivors of the many coups and power grabs since. But now they had retired to this remote mountain fort, and although they weren’t involved in day-to-day operations anymore, she was still the only one they trusted to keep them up to date. They’d been her mentors, her guardians. They had practically raised her.

“No, King and Queen are codenames, their underworld names,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to make him feel stupid. “Bail and Breha,” she pronounced their names slowly for Anakin, “They’re the reason UV can be the power that it is. They never come out of the mountains now, too many people want them dead, but they could take on an entire army if they had to.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Anakin said, as as he transmitted landing coordinates. “Security here is tight.”

“Yes, and I’ll need to speak on the comm channel when we land, so they’re sure it’s me. Don’t be offended if they want you to stay aboard the ship,” 

The starwind finally flew past what was a relatively well-concealed guard tower. Padme’s trained eye knew they were almost there but her pilot was still just dodging mountain peaks and following coordinates. In a moment, they dropped entirely under the clouds and Padme could see the luxurious compound built into the mountainside. She didn’t spend much time here anymore, but her heart still sighed in relief at being “home.”

“OG Compound, this is Royal House 2 requesting clearance for landing,” Padme said hating how her voice sounded on the radio saying those dorky codenames.

“Cleared, Royal House 2, proceed to landing pad. And they want to know who the boy is, Padme. They want to meet him.”

However they’d gotten the news so quickly -- Padme suspected Ahsoka -- it would be a long day if she had to murder her mentors, Anakin, the comms tower guys and anyone else who’d heard that. Padme decided not to kill anyone for now, but kept in mind that everyone was already on strike one for the day and figured at least they’d all be in one place if anything else embarrassing enough to commit mass murder over went down.

\------------------------------------

Padme bowed in front of the couple and kissed their rings. This was a formality. Though the galaxy knew them as cold blooded killers she could see their smiling eyes. King and Queen of the House OG were tough. They were ruthless business people and deadly to their enemies, but they were devoted to UV and they were devoted to its children and Padme was nothing if not a child of the gang, even if she was now grown into one of its rulers and too old to have been their child at all.

King looked behind Padme, to Anakin standing near the ramp of the starwind. He called out to the boy and gestured for Anakin to come closer. His dark eyes were hard in his handsome face and when he grasped the pilot’s hand Padme knew Skywalker was about to experience the firmest handshake in the galaxy.

“This is the first time we’ve ever seen you, Skywalker. A new recruit then? With a name like that, it’s just surprising we haven’t heard of you before, if you’re already in the ranks. I’m Bail and this is my wife, Breha.”

“I’m not sir,” Anakin said. “I’m not in the ranks, I mean. I’m just a hired … gun. It’s an honor to meet you both.” His hand freed from the older gangster’s crushing grip, he bowed to them both. 

“Let’s go inside.” Breha had on her hostess face. Padme wondered if Anakin’s stumble over the word gun meant he’d already reached strike two. Of course she wasn’t really going to kill anyone to spare herself some embarrassment but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. She cursed her boss a thousand times. She really could have handled this mission alone.

____________________________

Very much to Padme’s surprise, her mentors practically dragged Anakin into their home. Of course he still had to leave his blasters at the door. Even she was asked to check her weapons. She didn’t take it as a sign of mistrust. She understood that this was what they had done in order to survive. These were the people who had taught her everything she knew. After all, she’d never let an underling with weaponized high heels into her home either. 

They made their way down the grand entrance hall, a long hallway with a shiny black floor, light streaming in from a transparisteel ceiling, the walls covered in the paintings of their dynasty. Bail and Breha pointed out important players in UV’s history. Things Anakin would need to know, need to memorize and be able to recite through a torturous initiation, if he wanted in. Not that anyone had asked if he did. But he was here in the OG’s compound and that alone was enough to get him killed or initiated, or both.

There were two portraits of Padme. She stopped in front of them, unashamed of wanting the discussion to turn to her achievements, if just for a moment. The first portrait was from long ago, when she’d first proven herself and been invited to the mountains to train. Behind her, she could hear Bail’s deep, warm baritone telling Anakin what she had been like as a young girl. She tuned him out to look up at herself in the painting.

She was 12 or 13, her hair still long and curling, but her eyes were already hard and glinting like the blade of a dagger. She was dressed in dark blue, Queen had insisted black was unbecoming until she’d reached womanhood, and there were flowers in her hair, to represent the blossoming of a young leader in their organization. In the portrait, her foot rested on something dark and rumpled and a silver-plated blaster rested on her hip. She smiled, remembering her first kill, the reason the painting had been commissioned.

When she had made her bones, as they say, Breha had called her into her private study for a meeting. Padme remembered the way the fire crackled and the way the rug felt as she knelt in front of her Queen, at the time barely older than Padme was now. That night she had learned of her own secret power as a woman, her power to play the unassuming second, the right hand. It was that night Padme had learned of UV’s plan for her, and until now, every move she had made was in a deliberate march toward its culmination, set in motion long ago by a mob matriarch and a newly minted, teenage killer.

The second portrait was commissioned a few years ago, when Padme had achieved her current post, lieutenant to UV’s leader. This time her hair was cropped shorter, just brushing her jaw in a jagged line. She wore a fitted black suit, with a ruby necklace gleaming against the white of her chest and blouse, a gift from a powerful ally, and a symbol of her ability to bind and control the other syndicates. She stood behind a young man with gleaming amber eyes, her hand on his shoulder, in her place as his right hand.

For the first time in several minutes, she was pulled out of her memories by Anakin, who let out a loud, completely noticeable huff at King’s mention of UV’s leader. 

In the painting the man sat in just a dress shirt, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up, showing his tattooed arms, as his jacket hung off the back of the chair. His short, brown hair was mussed and he looked perfectly at ease, gazing out of the painting with a challenging expression on his face, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.

Padme could feel her little pilot seething. How precious that he thought he had some sort of claim to her, when really it was she who had claimed him. She would need to take care of that, make sure he knew she belonged to no one. But that was for later.

Anakin got pulled away to go look in the trophy room. To UV’s King, trophies were the weapons of people he’d killed or beaten on his path to glory. Just what that cocky little bastard needed, she thought. She’d let King scare him with a mass of weaponry, so she could talk business and then, once they were on their way, she’d give him a reminder about what he was to her.


	7. Fire in the Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an unexpected attack, an unexpected ally comes to the rescue.

For people who spent their lives in the high mountains of Alderaan to keep from getting murdered, UV’s founders truly did live in what looked like a glass house. Padme knew most of it was transparisteel and that it was almost impossible for anyone to get to a location where it would be possible to see inside, but it always made her laugh a little that her oh-so-private, higher-security-than-the-imperial-palace mentors lived in such an open looking home.

 

The floors were dark wood and the walls and ceilings were all clear as glass and the low sitting couches in the living room were a soft, light gray. There were soft, heavy dark blue blankets draped everywhere, made in the traditional patterns of Alderaanian weaving. As a young girl, Padme loved to sit inside, warm and snug while the sunlight lit and warmed the room in a way it couldn’t warm the snowy mountains outside. 

 

She’d learned to be tough, to be a killer and a leader, but she’d never had a hard life. This remote compound was the safest place she’d ever been, then and now. And sitting here updating Breha on UV operations was the soothing kind of business as usual she needed after the stress of the last few days.

 

“We’ve been making a lot of progress in the Outer Rim,” Padme had begun saying, as she sipped her drink with one hand and navigated to a file full of charts on her data pad. “But of course you-know-who has started on yet another venture without running it by me and its required some damage control on my end.”

 

Breha nodded slowly, her dark eyes were on the verge of rolling before she caught herself and refocused on the charts. “The acquisition of that small time weapons cartel was an intelligent move, and allowing them to continue their operations as usual was smart as well. Something he didn’t trust they could do, I assume?”

 

“It took some convincing,” Padme said. What it had really taken was one specific dress and a few too many drinks at dinner. 

 

But Padme had been right. The head of the trafficking group was eager to form an alliance with UV, it meant better protections and payouts for her crew with almost no downsides. If they were able to retain their autonomy, they would have no reason not to cooperate. Mandalorians could be shady, but Padme knew the weapons expert knew a good deal when she saw one. Now, she was quietly feeding new tech to Padme, completely unknown to anyone else in the galaxy. Including one very skeptical crime lord.

 

The two women turned from the low table where their drinks and work had been laid out in front of them to the noise of the men returning from the trophy room and armory downstairs. Padme’s eyes went immediately to Anakin’s face. His expression was serious, almost stony but determined. He now knew exactly who he was dealing with and what he was signing on for simply by being on this mountain. She thought he’d taken the bait. She wondered if this mission would be enough make him.

 

She opened her mouth to ask King and Queen what they thought, but before she could even get the words out, there was a violent cracking sound. Either part of a nearby glacier was breaking off or the transparisteel of the house had been compromised and they were under attack.

 

Padme didn’t even think, she saw the expressions on her mentors faces, saw the utter fear in Anakin’s eyes and sprinted for the stairs that Bail and Anakin had come up moments before, the others quickly switching direction and following her.

 

One flight down and then another and then a final turn and they were at the bunker. Bail and Breha were already there beside her, putting their hands to the door’s security pad, giving the password into the voice recognition mic, letting the scanner shine a thin green line over the retinas of their eyes and finally, pricking their fingers and each placing a drop of blood on a small chip that had appeared out of the panel. 

 

It happened in less than 5 seconds, and the doors opened to reveal a bunker of sorts, which they all piled into rather unceremoniously considering the fluidity of their escape down the stairs and the many steps required to enter the room.

 

Wordlessly, the retired King and Queen of the Ultraviolence cartel readied themselves for battle. He took stock of the weapons, hung on the wall at the ready and she replaced her skirt with a pair of tight but durable trousers. Padme was already wearing pants but she looked around the room, hoping for shoes. Her shoes, too deadly to bring into the compound, or the lack thereof them might now be the death of her. 

 

“Here darling,” Breha whispered, plunking down a pair of gunmetal colored combat boots. They were thick soled and sturdy, and there were magnets in the feet should she need to run up any metal or do a spacewalk.

 

Padme laced up the boots quickly. She couldn’t remember under the pressure of the moment if she and her queen wore the same size or if the boots had always been in this room just for her. Despite the cramped quarters and the fact that they probably only had about 2 minutes left before they’d need to come out of that door fighting like hell, she smiled. She was loved.

 

Only then did Padme even remember an outsider was among them. She looked at Anakin’s face and where there had been fear as they were fleeing there was now a hard determination. He looked almost angry, indignant even, that whatever they’d been doing here had been interrupted and now he was being forced to go out and make some kills before he could continue looking at weapons and wooing crime families.

 

This, she knew, wasn’t the right time to say something, anything. She gave him a firm nod of approval and the last thing she did as she exited the bunker behind her beloved mentors and her pilot was flip the small switch that activated King and Queen’s personal distress code. 

 

____________________________

 

The main floor of the house was chaos. The bodies of UV guards and whoever these insurgents were littered the floor but there was still an inordinate amount of shooting, of breaking glass, of chaos. To their credit, the guards were defending the compound with honor and skill. While their people lay dead with shots in their backs, the enemy bodies had blaster wounds in their foreheads and cuts across their necks.

 

Bail charged up the stairs, firing his blaster in rapid, precise bursts. The women were behind him, covering one another as they surveyed the room for information about what the hell was happening and how they might be able to get out.

 

All the furniture had been overturned and the great glass ceiling that gave the house it’s airy feeling was shattered, cold wind whipping around the room. It wasn’t clear if it had been the wind or other intervention that had caused what was once a crackling but contained fire to spread across the dark wood floor of the room, filling it with acrid smoke that somehow didn’t escape through the roof but instead swirled around making everything difficult to see.

 

Anakin brought up the rear, wordlessly watching everyone’s back. His loyalty had already been won and Padme didn’t have time to question it now.

 

The insurgents quickly realized that their real targets had re-entered the room. It was hard to tell what species they were. All wore helmets or masks and clothing or armour that covered their whole bodies, all in a matte shade of pure black. Most were bipedal but there was at least one with four arms who had all four of his weapons in said arms pointed at Padme. She ended his assault with a shot between his masked eyes. 

 

Anakin, had his blaster trained on a man attempting to sneak down the stairs. He looked first at her and then at the toppling, 4-armed alien with eyes as wide as saucers. He still hit his target.

 

Their pathway to the front door and the landing pad was cleared as much as it ever would be, Padme started charging the opening, her team wordlessly following, taking the hint as any highly trained warriors would.

 

As the group ran in a tight formation down the hallway they’d casually traversed only hours before Padme, who never allowed herself to be sentimental, looked once more into her own fierce eyes as she abandoned her beloved home.

__________________________________

 

Things on the landing platform looked grim. An insurgent ship, probably empty except for a pilot and gunman, but still deadly all the same, hovered above them threateningly. The starwind teetered dangerously on the damaged platform, already too close to tumbling down the mountainside to attempt to board. 

 

Padme, Bail and Breha immediately sought cover behind a stack of crates sitting on the platform but then she realized very suddenly that Anakin wasn’t there. 

 

The man she’d tackled only last night, who’d bent under her will and her body and done it silently with merely a clench of his jaw was alone on the platform with what looked like a partially deconstructed blaster which he flung into the open door of the hovering craft with a shout of anger so powerful Padme could feel it’s heat in the freezing mountain wind and hear it echo across the other peaks of the mountain range above the roar of the ship.

 

The gunman knew what had happened. The blaster had been rigged to explode and the craft was just low enough to the platform that a jump might be manageable, it might mean injury or capture instead of certain death. The man took the risk and tumbled down, practically at Anakin’s feet.

 

This man, who had never shed blood for the family, owed nothing and was owed nothing in turn, who had seemed so soft for every moment she’d known him, now wrinkled his nose, furrowed his brow in vengeance and hunger and brought his boot up to step on the fallen man’s throat as the ship above them spun out of control and away from them.

 

“Who are you?” he screamed. “Tell me who sent you!”

 

That was all Padme could hear before the explosion of the ship rocked the platform and drowned out Anakin’s yelling. She could sense he was making a threat but couldn’t hear the words he said. She could only see the way the man squirmed, gasping for breath, his hands wrapped around her hired pilot’s ankle in a plea for mercy as the ground on which he lay shook.

 

Anakin knelt down and ripped off the man’s mask. He looked unremarkable, in an almost-remarkable way. Like he’d been engineered to blend in, to look like an everyman. His skin and eyes and hair all some shade of muted brown. 

 

The man’s mouth was set into a hard line but there was an almost blank look in his eyes. Anakin’s hand once again closed harder around this throat. But this time there was no plea. He looked straight into Anakin’s face, steady almost, accepting of his fate and waiting to die honorably without a word about who he was or who he was fighting for. With a hand on his chest and the other gripping his jaw Anakin jerked that strangely blank face to the side and snapped the stranger’s neck. He’d wasted time and learned nothing. It was time to get out of there.

 

Padme could hear a ship approaching, seconds later she saw flashes of it’s bright red hull through the clouds. This was their pickup. An unexpected pickup to be sure, but it meant safety all the same. 

 

The ship was long and sleek and so red it almost hurt to look at. A bright shiny scarlett, it taunted enemies to just  _ try _ and shoot it down. But here it was, blazing and landing and lowering it’s ramp. And stepping out to cover them while they made a run inside was the governor. HER governor.

 

Forgetting where she was, Padme just stood straight up. 

 

“What are you doing here?” she called.

 

Anakin, who was closest to the ship, just turned away from their now-dead mystery man and walked straight on board, nodding to the crisply dressed man on the ramp. King and Queen stood up but stayed low, still behaving exactly as they’d taught Padme, swiftly boarding, asking no questions of the man either.

 

“I swear if you or any of those military goons have done anything to her I’ll send you Tarkin’s head in a cake box by tomorrow just in time for tea,” she growled into his face as she finally, against her own better judgement, got on the ship. Did everyone else know something she didn’t?

 

“You can trust him!” said a bored woman’s voice over the ship’s intercom. “Can we get tea service for the six of us in my office please? And Tarkin’s head in a cake box would be lovely but I understand if it’s not possible on such short notice.” 

  
Padme smiled. Qi’ra  _ was _ here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll with how insane this week has been for me it's completely nuts that this is going up right now at all, let alone that this is like maybe my longest chapter to date. I love you all. Thanks for sticking with me and Padme <3.


	8. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme negotiates, Anakin eats, Maul dresses like Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I DISAPPEARED GUYS BUT I'M BACK NOW!! I was finishing my last semester of college and literally just had NO time to work on this but don't worry I'm here and I'm still in love with this world and thinking about this story. Hoping to update MUCH more often as soon as I get a regular schedule in my life again.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has liked and supported this fic and didn't give up hope that I'd return. Enjoy!!

Padme sipped tea and watched everyone in the small circle shift uncomfortably. It had been an abrupt shift from the shootout at the compound to tea in the bright, luxurious ship of an ally.

The poor governor looked more uncomfortable than Padme had ever seen him but his presence was still completely unexplained. King and Queen looked at one another, the way only married people can, silently discussing their next move. Anakin looked completely content to be drinking tea and stuffing his face with snacks.

“Well it’s probably good they weren’t actually able to do the head thing, isn’t it?” Qi’ra said measuredly. She had always had a way of effortlessly controlling the atmosphere of a room, and her quip broke most of the lingering tension. “We were nearby at an important meeting when we got your distress signal.”

 Padme looked at King and Queen. She had been the one to convince them to trust Qi’ra and Crimson Dawn. When they’d been in charge the rule of thumb had been _never trust anyone_. Padme and her boss had made sure that changed, and it had so far worked out in UV’s favor. But she craved the approval of her mentors and searched their faces for any signs of anger or distrust but Queen smiled at her, very small, but extremely satisfied.

“We were ambushed,” Padme said, keeping her voice steady. She technically had more authority in this situation than her retired mentors, it was up to her to handle the situation and get them to safety. “No clear markings on their clothes or ships, the one guy I saw without a mask was… strange-looking. Anakin? Did you think he was weird looking?”

“What?” the pilot said through a mouth full of pastry.

She exchanged a look with her ally, who’s eyes silently begged the question _“Where did you find this one?”_ and Padme tried to give her a look back that said she wanted to know the same about the little government goody two shoes, who at least had the decency to pretend he was engaged in the conversation.

“It’s a long story,” Qi’ra blurted out loud. Everyone looked at her. 

“Well, regardless of who they were, they were trying to eliminate at least King and Queen, if not me as well,” Padme said. “We need to get you two to the safehouse. I need to get back to headquarters immediately. When I called everything seemed normal, but that could mean an attack is still on the way. If someone is moving in on UV, I need to be there.”

 King and Queen looked at each other. They looked like actual parents in that moment. Weighing consequences and worrying about their children.

 “Lady Qi’ra,” Breha said at last. “We need a ship. Preferably one that’s untracked, unlisted and not bright red, darling.”

Qi’ra looked at the door like she was expecting someone to come in, but no one did. She nodded. “I want to help UV, your majesty, but I need to confirm that we can make a trade.”

“Just Queen, dear,” Breha smiled. Her mouth made a hard line and her dark eyes flashed. The woman was made of invisible steel and it showed. “Alright, go get him, or send him in, or whatever, we can take it.”

Padme looked at Anakin, chewing away haplessly. She’d never met Qi’ra’s boss. Never. And here was her mama’s boy, corn-fed pilot about to meet the head of Crimson Dawn. He was eccentric and notorious, both in the underworld and above. He’d been a Sith apprentice once, they said, and had tattoos all over his body. All over. Or, that was what those who whispered his name in seedy bars liked to say. Underworld people were weird.

It would be up to her to negotiate. She really did outrank King and Queen and it was customary for them to be present but not act as UV’s direct representatives. Padme thought it might be good to stop wondering about the man’s dick before she had to make a deal with him.

The doors slid open and there he was. A red skinned zabrak in resort wear. There were the tattoos, which at least covered all the parts of him that Padme could see. For a crime lord about to have a meeting with an ally, an unbuttoned shirt, thin trousers and no shoes was quite an informal look. He looked like he’d just walked off the beach. 

“I was just telling Kast that what she wants right now simply can’t be done,” he was saying to someone on a holo. “She wants too many codes right now, we don’t have a slicer capable of getting them. Just call me when you’ve found someone.”

Padme stood and approached him.

“Lady Padme,” he said in a smooth voice. He took her hand and then leaned close to put his cheek to hers.

“Or should I say the Silver Dagger, Lieutenant of Ultraviolence.” He switched sides, his warm hands on her shoulders.

“Chosen daughter of the King and Queen.” He gave a nod behind her.

“And the bearer of my blessings and riches as long as you still wear the rubies I sent at your ascension, we meet at last,” he finished in a low rumble, bowing his head slightly as he stepped back.

“Lord Maul, Ultraviolence is grateful for your loyalty and hospitality in this time of need,” Padme said, feeling proud that such a dangerous man would address her so warmly, with such respect. “I am indeed still wearing the rubies. They are safe, at our headquarters, but its security at this time remains to be seen.”

The man moved to sit on the long sofa in between Qi’ra and the Governor. He patted the space directly next to him and the governor scooted over. Padme blinked. Did Lord Maul of Crimson Dawn have his arm draped casually around the shoulder of the uptight governor of the Trans-Hydian systems? She couldn’t risk eye contact with Qi’ra again right now.

Maul fixed golden eyes on King and Queen. “Tell me what you need.”

“We need transport and protection for UV’s _advisers_ ,” Padme cut in. This was her deal to make. “And we need the support of Crimson Dawn against those who’ve taken these actions to harm us today. In exchange I can offer you new tech, designed by a rogue Mandalorian, and potentially, a slicer if your own people cannot find you a sufficient one.”

He nodded. He looked at the general and smoothed down one of the man’s stray hairs. This really was happening.

“I don’t do Mandalorians, but I thank you for the offer. Send me your slicer, and I will put my people to work to find out who attacked you. I remember once hearing about blank-faced men from another world.”

He turned to King and Queen for a second time. It was their turn now, Padme didn’t intervene.

 “Bail, Breha, I thank you for your allyship. Ultraviolence is our worthy and trusted partner and I ensure your safety until this conflict is resolved. King and Queen both bowed their heads.

“Thanks for saving our asses, Maul,” Bail grinned. “Again.” 

 _Had they WORKED TOGETHER?_ Padme took a sip of tea and wished they had something stronger.

Maul looked at Qi’ra and nodded.

“Lord Maul requests we all leave the room immediately,” she said, in a voice that sounded like they’d had a lot of conversations about her announcing his requests as though he wasn’t right there.

That was weird, but Padme was thankful this meeting’s end might provide her with the time she needed to ask her friend what the hell was going on.

The zabrak tilted his head back to rest on the back of the couch, and placed the hand that wasn’t caressing the governor’s shoulder over his forehead. “I simply have too much to do,” he sighed dramatically, heaving his shoulders. “Go, go, Qi’ra will take care of everything.”

The door closed behind them and they made their way to the landing bay to get King and Queen into a ship.

“Was that guy, like, extremely dramatic?” Anakin whispered to her. “And also do you think he’s got a thing with that Imperial dude?”

That was it. If Anakin had seen it, it must have been real. She had to know.

“Qi’ra,” Padme hissed. Her friend’s perfectly coiffed ponytail bobbed as she turned around. “Is your boss FUCKING Governor Kenobi?”


End file.
